Big River

I'm back in Maputo after a week on the Zambezi River. It was quite a trip, with broken roads, potholes that could swallow an elephant, a road full of baboons, and a friendly how-de-do from a little scorpion that decided to explore my foot. Thankfully, it was too small to sting (I think) and I was able to carefully remove it without incident using a quick flick of the ankle.

It was good to get back in the field. Spending too much time in Maputo made me forget that Mozambique is one of the poorest countries in the world, and that there are places where people are struggling just to get a meal or two each day.

Para aceder aos seus blogues

I still haven't figured it out. For some reason, when I initiate a session in Blogger, the commands, layout, etc... show up in English. At other times, the system recognizes that I'm signing in from a Mozambican IP address, and everything comes up in Portuguese. No major drama, but it's interesting to note that when I viewed my profile I found out that the Portuguese translation of my industria, which is listed in English as non-profit, is "Sem fins lucrativos." This literally translates to, "without profitable purpose." A little disconcerting.

Vamos a comer

Good ol' Bairro Central. Lunch in the neighborhood around my office can be a challenge.

Directly adjacent to my office a very nice woman makes hamburgers (simples or completo), egg sandwiches, cheese sandwiches, and fried cornmeal things called bagias that are sort of like hush puppies. The food has some flavor, she's quick and enterprising, and the price is right: roughly two bucks for a hamburger completo, which includes a fried egg and soggy chips (french fries) inside the bun (don't ask because I don't know either). But it's easy to grow weary of the limited and very unhealthy menu, and the food sometimes (often) gives me the squirts.

Mimmos, a ten minute walk, is part of a South African chain. There you can get tasteless pizza, tasteless burgers, mediocre pastas, a very bizarre chicken kabob thingy, or a decent Portuguese-style grilled half chicken with chips and salad. Mimmos is more expensive, the menu also gets old quickly, and the food is generally uninspiring. But it seems to be easy on the intestines, the walk is nice, and one of the day managers is an old Afrikaner lady who screams at the staff in one of the most gravelly old smoker's voices I've ever hear, which is sometimes entertaining. Somewhat more entertaining, though simultaneously disturbing, is the local practice of young women sending their names and phone numbers to me on a scraps of paper via the server. It would be flattering except that recently the name written on the piece of paper was "Hurricane." I'm no genius, but I'm guessing she was being more entrepreneurial than romantic.

Finally, there's Mira Flora, a quick three-minute walk from the office. It's sort of a beer joint cum sandwich shop that is often out of bread, which in my book is a very important ingredient of a sandwich. I also know for a fact that there's a bread shop around the corner. Sometimes they run out of cheese, the sandwich machine was once broken for over a week, and the service is ... bad. Atrocious to be frank. The food is OK and it's cheap, but the combination of apathy and incompetence led me to boycott the place entirely. I'm into cultural sensitivity, but not when I'm hungry.

Maputo has good food. Just not in the neighborhood where my office is located. Bottom line: I'm bringing my lunch from now on.

Afreeka

The first thing you might notice about this post is that it's been eight months since the last post. It's not laziness; I promise.

Perhaps explanations are in order. I left the U.S. in late August 2008 to take a contract job for a UN Agency in Mozambique. In my office in the capital, Maputo, our internet connection can be sketchy. Outside of the office, I don't have internet connectivity. Initially I was just coming over until the end of December. Had I known I would be here this long, I would have probably gotten internet in my house. Add the internet issue to the fact that I showed up here to start a new project from scratch that was already several months behind the eight ball, and it all adds up to no time for B&G.

But now I'm on my way out. My contract ends on April 30, and I've decided not to extend. In an attempt to record a few passing observations and impressions of my life in Mozambique before I leave, I'll try to update B&G a few times over the next month.

Krispy Kreme

With special emphasis on crispy.

A good pal of the staff here at B&G recently reminded me of that fantastic North Carolina institution, Krispy Kreme. A much more eloquent and thorough discussion of donuts in general can be found over at One Spicy Meatball. Beware, though, there a photos that will make you hungry.

Though the humble donut has consistently earned the dubious honor of ranking in the top five most unhealthy foods, the emotional nutritional content of donuts should not be easily dismissed.

Trans fat? So what. We didn't even know what that was a few years ago. Sure, eating a few donuts is a fantastic diabetes startup kit, but what some people don't know is that the hole in the middle of the donut isn't really empty. It's filled with love.

Who can forget the pleasure of driving by the Krispy Kreme on Oleander Drive (go Seahawks!) and seeing the "hot" sign on? It's what dreams are made of.

Another fond memory is that of watching a guy from Rocky Mount named Cuz (say it with enthusiasm, but keep the z silent) eat a dozen after smoking too many of those left-handed cigarettes. Simultaneously disgusting and inspiring.

The takeaway message here is that the occasional visit to Krispy Kreme is good for the soul if not the body.

Next time you're in the mood to indulge, try the innovative approach developed at N.C. State University. The annual Krispy Kreme Challenge is held in January. Starting at the campus Belltower, run two miles to the Krispy Kreme store near campus, eat a dozen glazed donuts (2,400 calories, 144 grams of fat), then run back to the Belltower. Do it in under an hour. The 2008 Challenge raised over $20,000 for the North Carolina Children's Hospital.

Meet me there in January. I'll be training.

Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap

For those about to suck...

I'm a little behind on this story, but the word on the street is that everyone's favorite fist-pumping guilty pleasure band, AC/DC, recently signed an agreement to let Wal-Mart be the exclusive distributor of the band's new album. At least this will make for a great trivia question: What two things do AC/DC, The Eagles, Garth Brooks and Journey have in common? 1) Exclusive distribution agreements with Wal-Mart and 2)being weak sauce.

I suppose I won't lose sleep over this; it's not like I planned to buy the new record. Back in Black, as we all know, is the only post-Bon Scott album worth listening to. Since then, the band has been on a 28-year cruise through shitty hard rock irrelevance.

When you think about it, the move to team with Wal-Mart just makes sense for AC/DC. I think a quick blurb from Corporate Country Sucks sums this up nicely:

I'm not sure what this says about the industry, but I'm sure it has something to do with the lowest common denominator, slippery slopes and mediocrity.

Well said.

Bulleit Bourbon

I finally bought a bottle of Bulleit bourbon over the weekend. I've eyeballed it a few times in the ABC store, admiring the well-designed bottle and its position on the high shelf. But alas, I don't make it to the ABC store that often, believe it or not. As a matter of reference, the lonely bottle of vodka I've had since December is still hanging in there.

The jury is still out (the one-person jury of me, that is). The flavor is different than what I'm used to, much sharper than a wheaty bourbon like Maker's Mark because of its high rye content -- not high enough to be rye whisky, of course, because then it wouldn't be bourbon. But that's neither here nor there.

The flavor is growing on me. Perhaps not enough to drink straight up, but the sharpness goes great with a double splash of ginger ale and a slice of lime in an old fashioned glass, which for my money is a real bourbon and ginger.